


As It Was Before

by billys_consulting_flatmates



Series: season 12 codas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s12e02 Mamma Mia, M/M, coda fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billys_consulting_flatmates/pseuds/billys_consulting_flatmates
Summary: Maybe this was just Cas, because Dean knew Cas wasn’t cold. Had been given enough evidence of that in the last couple of days alone to know that Cas was anything but cold.





	

The last of the beer drained from the bottle and Dean put it down beside him heavily, his eyes never leaving the worn photos in front of him. His stomach felt queasy with too much pie, too much beer, too much confusion. His head felt like it was swimming with questions and exhaustion but he couldn’t find it in himself to get to his feet and find her to ask, or to find his bed to collapse on. 

Instead, he stayed where he was, legs slowly going numb as the blood was cut off, his arse sore against the concrete ground and the cold island bench digging into his shoulder blades. It certainly wasn’t the most comfortable spot he could have chosen but in that moment Dean thought it was the most fitting. Comfort was the last thing on his mind and he doubted he’d sleep much, not now, even if his body was aching, his muscles complaining every time he moved.

He didn’t even know what time it was anymore. Sammy had taken a cup of tea to her what must have been hours ago. They would both be asleep now. He hoped so anyway. After everything that had happened to Sam, a peaceful night of sleep seemed to be the best to hope for. 

The sound of footsteps startled him from his thoughts and he barely had time to listen as someone crossed the kitchen, their shoes clicking slightly against the hard floor, before a familiar figure rounded the island bench, his dark shoes the first thing Dean saw out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to look and let his eyes slowly move up over the tan trenchcoat and up to Cas’ tired face.

Neither spoke or moved for a moment, merely stared at one another before Cas seemed to make up his own mind and lowered himself to the floor beside Dean. Dean turned back to the photos in his hand as Cas settled down, his elbow knocking against Dean’s, his thigh close enough that Dean could feel the warmth emanating off of him. Why he’d ever thought of angels as cold he had no idea. Then again, maybe they were. Maybe this was just Cas, because Dean knew Cas wasn’t cold. Had been given enough evidence of that in the last couple of days alone to know that Cas was anything but cold. Now, with Cas sitting so close that Dean would have to move only an inch to the left for them to be touching shoulders, hips, thighs, Dean knew how foolish those thoughts had been. Cas was warm, his leg from where it sat so close to Dean’s, his arms wrapping around Dean earlier and his chest, pressed tightly against Dean’s, his heart beating hard enough that Dean could’ve sworn he felt it.

Cas remained silent and for that Dean was grateful. He had no idea what would come out of his mouth if he opened it to speak. His exhaustion was lowering his inhibitions and Dean didn’t want to break this quiet, calm balance they’d found. It had been years since he and Cas had had it so easy. He knew there were things they needed to talk about, of course there were, but for now he was just grateful they were alive, all of them, and  _ here _ .

Dean was startled out of his thoughts again when he felt warmth brush his hand and he blinked down to see Cas’ hand covering his own for a second before he gently pulled one of the photos out of Dean’s fingers. Dean watched as he brought the photo over to his own lap and stared down silently at the frozen image of a smiling four-year-old and mother. His fingers moved over the photo, hovering over the child but never touching. Dean’s eyes darted up to Cas’ face where his lips were pulled up slightly. It was small enough that anyone else would probably miss it but Dean recognized Cas’ smile when he saw it, knew how rare it was and so he allowed himself to stare openly, uncaring in that moment if Cas would look up and find Dean staring at his lips. He almost missed Cas speaking he was so preoccupied, his low timbre only dimly registering. He blinked when Cas turned to him, a slight frown marring his features and Dean scrambled to think back.

“I said, you look so happy,” Cas patiently repeated and Dean felt that strange mix of pleasure and embarrassment that Cas seemed to effortlessly evoke in Dean. He looked away from that earnest gaze and instead stared at the photo in Cas’ slim fingers. He supposed Cas was right, he did look happy. Of course he did. He knew nothing of the world's real problems back then. All he knew in that moment were his mother’s arms around him and the joy that she brought.

He hadn’t felt like that in years, that innocent happiness disappeared when he was four years old along with Mary and the fleeting moments of joy he had had since were overshadowed by darker, larger issues. Nothing had felt like that, not even Mary’s return if he had to be honest. Maybe he was too jaded, now, to fully enjoy her being back. He loved her, he knew that, and was so thrilled she was back but that indescribable and overwhelming joy he’d felt as a child was no longer reachable, not now, not after everything that had happened in the last few years. Not since Dad died, really. 

Except, maybe one time. Maybe once in the past few years he had felt something that could compare. Something that wasn’t marred by the latest big bad or lies or betrayal. Maybe there was one moment, if only fleeting, where he had felt something like the joy that had filled him as a child. Those blue eyes burning with shock and awe before Cas had crashed into Dean, his arms locking themselves around him, refusing to let him go, ever again, and Dean had let himself collapse into Cas, as everything rushed over him at once and he’d let himself curl closer for a moment, let himself linger longer than he normally would have as Cas hooked his chin over Dean’s shoulder and squeezed, held Dean close to his chest, as if he could protect him from the death Dean had escaped.

He looked over at Cas now, crumpled and tired on the kitchen floor beside him and felt his lips twitch upward into a small smile. For now, the bunker was quiet and with Amara and Chuck reconciled and gone maybe, just maybe, things could stay that way.

A wave of exhaustion washed over Dean and he felt his body slump against the island bench behind him before slipping to the side slightly. His shoulder pressed against Cas’ for a moment before Cas extracted his arm and wrapped it around Dean, pulling him against Cas further until his head rested on his shoulder, his thigh pressed tightly against Cas’. Dean’s eyes were slipping shut as Cas squeezed him gently and with the half-formed memory of his mother putting him to bed as a child suddenly in the forefront of his mind, Dean let himself curl into the warmth at his side. 

Mary may not be how he remembered her but she had been right. He certainly was being watched over.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song 'Lost Angel' by Heart which is the song that played at the end of this episode
> 
> crossposted on my tumblr fallenandthefaithless


End file.
